In Ghostly Japan | Page 2

"Look now below you and above you and about you, and tell me what
you see."
"I cannot," cried the pilgrim, trembling and clinging; "I dare not look

beneath! Before me and about me there is nothing but skulls of men."
"And yet, my son," said the Bodhisattva, laughing softly,--"and yet you
do not know of what this mountain is made."
The other, shuddering, repeated:--"I fear!--unutterably I fear!...there is
nothing but skulls of men!"
"A mountain of skulls it is," responded the Bodhisattva. "But know, my
son, that all of them ARE YOUR OWN! Each has at some time been
the nest of your dreams and delusions and desires. Not even one of
them is the skull of any other being. All,--all without exception,--have
been yours, in the billions of your former lives."
FURISODE
Recently, while passing through a little street tenanted chiefly by
dealers in old wares, I noticed a furisode, or long-sleeved robe, of the
rich purple tint called murasaki, hanging before one of the shops. It was
a robe such as might have been worn by a lady of rank in the time of
the Tokugawa. I stopped to look at the five crests upon it; and in the
same moment there came to my recollection this legend of a similar
robe said to have once caused the destruction of Yedo.
Nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, the daughter of a rich merchant
of the city of the Shoguns, while attending some temple- festival,
perceived in the crowd a young samurai of remarkable beauty, and
immediately fell in love with him. Unhappily for her, he disappeared in
the press before she could learn through her attendants who he was or
whence he had come. But his image remained vivid in her
memory,--even to the least detail of his costume. The holiday attire
then worn by samurai youths was scarcely less brilliant than that of
young girls; and the upper dress of this handsome stranger had seemed
wonderfully beautiful to the enamoured maiden. She fancied that by
wearing a robe of like quality and color, bearing the same crest, she
might be able to attract his notice on some future occasion.
Accordingly she had such a robe made, with very long sleeves,
according to the fashion of the period; and she prized it greatly. She
wore it whenever she went out; and when at home she would suspend it
in her room, and try to imagine the form of her unknown beloved
within it. Sometimes she would pass hours before it,--dreaming and
weeping by turns. And she would pray to the gods and the Buddhas that
she might win the young man's affection,--often repeating the

invocation of the Nichiren sect: Namu myo ho rengé kyo!
But she never saw the youth again; and she pined with longing for him,
and sickened, and died, and was buried. After her burial, the
long-sleeved robe that she had so much prized was given to the
Buddhist temple of which her family were parishioners. It is an old
custom to thus dispose of the garments of the dead.
The priest was able to sell the robe at a good price; for it was a costly
silk, and bore no trace of the tears that had fallen upon it. It was bought
by a girl of about the same age as the dead lady. She wore it only one
day. Then she fell sick, and began to act strangely,--crying out that she
was haunted by the vision of a beautiful young man, and that for love
of him she was going to die. And within a little while she died; and the
long- sleeved robe was a second time presented to the temple.
Again the priest sold it; and again it became the property of a young
girl, who wore it only once. Then she also sickened, and talked of a
beautiful shadow, and died, and was buried. And the robe was given a
third time to the temple; and the priest wondered and doubted.
Nevertheless he ventured to sell the luckless garment once more. Once
more it was purchased by a girl and once more worn; and the wearer
pined and died. And the robe was given a fourth time to the temple.
Then the priest felt sure that there was some evil influence at work; and
he told his acolytes to make a fire in the temple- court, and to burn the
robe.
So they made a fire, into which the robe was thrown. But as the silk
began to burn, there suddenly appeared upon it dazzling characters of
flame,--the characters of the invocation, Namu myo ho rengé kyo;--and
these, one by one, leaped like great sparks to the temple roof; and the
temple took fire.
Embers from the burning temple presently